Fairytales Are Quite Unnecessary
by kittodaijoubu
Summary: If you wanted a story of fairytale ilk, Tezuka and Fuji's is not for you. A story in which the regulars are more annoying than the ubiquitous dwarves. Reviews greatly appreciated


If you wanted an epic love story of fairytale ilk, that of Tezuka and Fuji is not for you.

Simply because one day they were not-quite-friends and the next Fuji realized (as calmly as if he had simply been watching his cactus grow) that he quite liked the way Tezuka tilted his head back to drink water after matches, the shadow of his eyelashes an uneven, asymmetric curve across his cheekbones, a trickle of moisture slipping like liquid light past the hollow at the base of his throat. Tezuka, watching ranking matches a few weeks later, realized there was a kind of casual elegance to the way Fuji flicked his wrist languidly when tossing the ball that couldn't be learnt or practiced and that the way he was staring at the wisps of Fuji's hair and the sinewy backs of his knees as he moved across the court was beginning to border on the obsessive.

(Echizen mouthed silently, _mada mada dane, Fuji-senpai, buchou,_ and Tezuka had never been quite so vindictively pleased as the moment he saw Eiji and Momo jump on him from behind and nearly flatten him. Fuji was glad to see that he and Eiji could still communicate revenge requests telepathically, and anyway Eiji owed him one for spiking the girl-who'd-tried-to-stalk-Oishi's mochi with the hottest wasabi he could find and filling her bottle with Inui juice, incapacitating her for a good two-and-a-half weeks so Eiji could Make His Move.)

Nobody even remembers who asked the other out; as far as they can recall, Fuji simply discovered that his hand fit almost too perfectly into the crook of Tezuka's elbow, that the shoulders of Tezuka's lavender shirts were particularly absorbent, that the curve of his neck was a good place to hide his face, after he lost to Shiraishi. Tezuka didn't bat an eyelid, didn't even twitch the corner of his mouth upwards at a 25-degree angle - this according to Inui's data - as he was wont to at things that surprised him. And nothing changed after, because Tezuka was unchangeable as the mountains he so admired (though there were reports on melting glaciers everywhere, for some reason) and Fuji was so unpredictable that most things he did were, surprisingly, things that were only expected of him after all.

* * *

There were the little things, though, that only the Seigaku regulars saw. Like the way Tezuka seemed to take particular pleasure in making Fuji run laps (nobody saw fit to question his motives because they didn't want to join Fuji, and because he was their morally upright buchou, and, well, if he wasn't really looking at the matches and his line of sight was nowhere as high as anyone's eye-level while Fuji was running and instead hovered in the general vicinity of, well – that wasn't their business. Everyone enjoys their own extra-extra-curricular activities). And how Fuji's tolerance for Inui juice dropped to normal human levels whenever he happened to be standing next to Tezuka, i.e. he would _conveniently_ collapse after imbibing it – and Tezuka, being overly responsible and conscientious where the health and safety of his team-members were concerned, naturally caught him, a steady hand at the small of his back.

If anyone speculated, nobody commented.

Fuji smiled at everyone's non-reactions. Tezuka kept his usual expression; that is to say, no expression.

* * *

That didn't stop the regulars from stalking them whenever possible. Usually the call line went something like this:

(Note: information about the date's happening usually came from Eiji or Inui.)

Eiji: Hoihoi! Oishi, Fuji and Tezuka are on a date, _nyaa_! …. Eh? Well, Fuji did say something about hotels… _Hai_, we'd better go make sure they're okay. Ja!

(Eiji feels almost bad about lying to his doubles partner like that, but figures that Oishi will forgive him, the way he does about everything. The only thing he worries about is that Oishi is taking their sexuality education classes too seriously (or is suffering from selective hearing in Biology class, for all his uncle is a doctor); it is unlikely that either Fuji or Tezuka have the necessary parts to become expectant mothers. In any case, Tezuka is very cautious: sometimes Eiji thinks he is a grandfather reincarnated in a teenager's body and fears for Fuji.)

Inui: Kaidoh. It's a date. Be at the bookshop at twelve; I'll be waiting.

He hangs up muttering_ii data, ii date-o, ii data, ii date-o_ and chuckling rather creepily to himself, possibly at his tremendous wit.

Kaidoh: Inui-senpai!_(click)_ Fshuu

(Even though Kaidoh knows after that first horrifying call about Momo and Echizen's date that wasn't that Inui just says these things so he can collect data about Kaidoh's reactions – fshuuuuuuuu. No. He is not shuddering with fear, because nothing scares him! He is Kaidoh Kaoru! Though admittedly the sight of dead cats on the road makes him want to throw up.)

Momo doesn't bother calling Echizen when he gets the call from Eiji; he simply rides his bike past, waving around a can of Grape Ponta. Echizen's legendary senses when it comes to Ponta-detecting do not fail him (well, that could just be Momo's loud shouting of _FREE PONTA! FREE PONTA!_, and he runs after Momo's bike and jumps on.) They ride past Kawamura Sushi and get Kawamura-senpai, who saves on transport because they hand him a racket and he runs after them shouting _BURNING! BURNING! HEARTS ON FIRE!_ to the horror and confusion of the Tokyo fire department, whom they conveniently pass on the way.

Naturally, them being the Seigaku regulars and not a bunch of ninjas in training, they are discovered when they fall out of a bush. This is Kaidoh and Momo's fault, as always: the ends of Kaidoh's bandanna accidentally-on-purpose jab Momo repeatedly in the eyes, and it turns into a huge scuffle that sees Fuji and Tezuka, comfortably ensconced on a park bench, looking around in surprise (in the former, entirely feigned).

* * *

Later, Inui bitterly reflects that he should have known they would've been caught, in the middle of the record five hundred and one laps that Tezuka makes them run. Each.

Eiji wonders if this is because they caught Tezuka in the middle of smiling, actually_smiling!_ - at Fuji. And holding hands, of course.

Fuji just smiles, a slow-blossoming curve that crinkles the corners of his eyes.

* * *

Their legs remember the trauma for a good while afterward. Which probably explains why everyone carefully averts their eyes when Tezuka turns up at the yearly team reunion wearing something that is surprisingly not purple. He actually reminds one of a cactus, because the shirt is green and furry and Tezuka is thorny at the best of times, but nobody dares to say anything.

Oishi suspects that Fuji (who has always hated purple, possibly due to a certain St Rudolph's ex-manager who Fuji still speaks of, once in a while, with a dangerous glint in open eyes) has turned Tezuka's infamous lavender shirts into dishcloths and bonfire material. Eiji confirms this rumour after he stays over in their apartment while Oishi is away on an exchange programe.

At Fuji's sixth birthday party (he is a leap year baby, after all), a slightly-more-than-very-drunk-Tezuka leans Fuji backward over the table and kisses him fiercely in front of everyone, five o'clock shadow scratchy against Fuji's face.

For once, Fuji simply looks stunned. As does everyone else.

It is testimony to how drunk Tezuka must be (the tea must have contained some sort of strong and flavourless alcohol, Inui postulates. He claims no responsibility for it) that he pushes up his glasses, which glint very ominously, and _smirks._

And Echizen, who always has the last word (and is in the midst of forming _mada mada dane_) closes his mouth in shock.

* * *

Because this is not a fairytale, there is no guarantee of an _"…And So They Lived Happily Ever After"_. There is only Tezuka and Fuji sitting across from each other at the breakfast table; wandering through parks in the spring when Tezuka can take leave; tennis until sundown in the summer, until they are both panting with the raw ache of exertion; down the lanes in autumn, with the crimson maple leaves and yellow fans of ginko cascading down like confetti; laughing in winter, their breath forming dandelion puffs in the sharp cold. Tezuka takes care of the day-to-day affairs, Fuji takes inexplicable pictures -

- and that is enough happiness for the two of them, for now.


End file.
